Structure

What thoughts go through your mind when you think of the word structure? 

For me, that word has always been rather confining, almost suffocating.

Today, Papa had planned an important lesson for me. I didn’t realize what it was until I was already starting to get rather annoyed at the crazy chain of events.

I had made arrangements to meet one of my University students to drop off a book after my normal morning swim time at the Y. Now this is not just your average student. She happens to be the Vice President of Student Affairs who for some reason thought it would be good to take some education classes. She chose mine. It’s a bit intimidating, but I try not to think about it too much.

I normally am heading to the pool by 7:00AM, but for some reason, I was a bit delayed this morning. I didn’t actually get into the water until 7:30AM.  Since I told her I would be on my way by 8:30AM, I knew I needed to hustle. I usually take about 50 minutes to complete my mile, and then of course there’s a shower, and drying my hair and all. If this had been just a typical college student, I would have blown it off and figured that 9:00 was just as good as what I’d told her. In fact, unlike my usual way of handling meetings, I gave her a specific time, when normally, I give a range. Too late now!

Once I got there, I realized I had forgotten my towel. Now, of course the Y offers itty-bitty towels which I take each morning to wrap around my hair—but there is no way that oversized washcloth can cover my body to walk from the shower to the locker. Feeling a bit unsettled, I knew that modesty was not going to be anywhere nearby this morning. Shaking my head, I wondered why I was so scatterbrained and was already wishing for a do-over for the day.

I knew right away, with the lateness of my start, I couldn’t do my entire mile, so I decided to just watch the clock to end at 8:15.  This sounded like a good plan, and so I started my swim. Except, I took off, leaving my goggles on the side of the pool. This was definitely unfolding as a very odd morning for something I normally do three times every week and have for years.

Now, for those who are not lap swimmers, let me explain a few things. Swimming a mile is 72 lengths of the pool, or in swimmer’s terms 36 laps (meaning down and back). I have a method for keeping track that helps me remember which lap I’m on.  Counting laps is tedious and it’s very easy to allow the mind to wander, forgetting where I am. I’ve come up with a way to easily keep count of my laps and to be able to allow my thoughts to flow at the same time.

Using the alphabet, I play a game in my head that I used to enjoy when I was younger. It was a game played while bouncing a ball, swinging the leg over the ball on the specific letter.

“A my name is Amy And my husband’s name is Arnie. We come from Alabama, And we sell Apples. B my name is Betty….

I do one set of five laps (A-E) in this way:  The first three (A,B,C) are freestyle; D is backstroke; E is with a kickboard. I then repeat the sequence with F-J, and have my first ten laps in. I repeat A-J again, and then continue through the rest of the alphabet. This makes 36 laps all together, and I don’t forget which one I’m on. When I’m in a hurry, I forgo some of the kickboard laps and add more freestyle, but you get the picture. This makes it easy for me to put my thoughts on other things and not forget where I am in the count.

So today, I decided to not count, but watch the clock. I couldn’t do it. I felt winded, thinking, should I do some backstroke now? How close am I? I was actually uncomfortable with the whole unstructured process, and figured I wouldn’t even get ¾ of a mile in this way. That is when the revelation came.

We need structures to move forward. I suddenly understood that the freedom I have with my structure in place allows me to focus on other more important thoughts, rather than just the monotony of back and forth swimming. I actually do a lot of mental processing during my swim time, but this morning, without that structure in place, all I could do was watch the clock.

Now this is a huge revelation, because I like to think of myself as flexible, and able to just go with the flow. Yet even in my flexibility, there remains a helpful structure.  It is also huge because I have just finished reading a life-altering book called, “Operating in the Courts of Heaven,” by Robert Henderson. In this book, Henderson describes the structure of how God answers prayer using a Heavenly court system. It is an amazing book, and if you are interested in learning why some prayers seem to go unanswered, this book is for you.

Something inside of me was balking at the structure Henderson described. I have always believed that the spirit realm was more fluid and intertwined, and yet this book illuminated the Heavenly structures that must be understood to receive answers to prayer.  I didn’t like the idea of the almost rigid feeling of a court system, and yet Papa taught me this morning that even in my own exercise program, I have a structure that I need to keep going. Without that structure, I fall apart.

I get it now.

Cool Eclipse or Significant Event?

            Today is a busy day, and yet, something keeps nagging in the back of my mind. Yesterday, the nation was abuzz with the solar eclipse taking place, yet so few understand the Godly significance.  The 21^st chapter of Luke tells us that there will be signs of the end times. Verse 25 says, “ There will be signs in the sun, moon and stars.”  If this were not true, it would not be written there.  So what significance is there in a solar eclipse?

            This particular eclipse had a path clear across our nation. The full view was available from Oregon to South Carolina.  Is it an accident that the eclipse passed through seven cities named Salem? Salem means Shalom, or peace. 

            Yesterday also marked the eve of the Hebrew month Elul, which is a forty day period for repentance, leading up to the day of atonement, Yom Kippur (September 29^th this year).

Jewish scholars have told us that the eve of Elul was when Moses took the second set of tablets up the mountain for God to re-inscribe the Ten Commandments. Moses returned to the mountaintop to repent on behalf of Israel for their disobedience, and making a golden calf to worship instead of the true God of Israel.

            We are also told that the eve of Elul was when Jonah went to Ninevah to warn the people of that city of their need to repent. They listened (much to Jonah’s dismay) and spent a forty-day period mourning of their sins.

            A Messianic Rabbi also stated that Jesus began his forty days in the wilderness at the start of the month of Elul.

            So if these things are true, (I am not a Historian, but am trusting they are), then what does that mean for us in these next forty days?

            I think about the people of Ninevah. What caused them all to repent at the short, angry words of a reluctant prophet? Something must have happened to turn hearts all at once. I know it wasn’t because of Jonah’s desire or influence, because he didn’t want to be there, and he didn’t want them to repent. He wanted them to be destroyed because of their behavior. Yet that was not God’s plan.

            What caused them to turn their hearts to the Lord?

            I am praying during these forty days for God’s people to awake from their slumber and to return to their calling. I am praying for the spirit of the living God to breathe new life into those who have forgotten who they are. I am praying for those who have denied Him to turn their hearts to hear.

            This is the time for God’s people to stand firm. Let our Yes be Yes, and not just when convenient.

            The eclipse was not just a cool thing that happened. There is a reason for astronomical events, and those who have ears to hear are called to walk in wisdom.

My First Principal Position

It was my first shot at being an elementary principal. I was fresh out of school, with a new license for a new career; in a new town, with no familiar faces. I was ready to take on this exciting journey. I had worked hard in my doctoral program in educational leadership and while I hadn’t started my dissertation yet, I was excited about trying on my wings with school administration. My leadership style comes from a heart of integrity—doing what is right, even when it might cause a jolt to long-held traditions and to those who hold them ever so tightly.

 I was passionate.

I was ready to change the world, one school at a time.

That is until the very first time my boss, the superintendent walked into my office.

I had rearranged the furniture because the previous principal did not use what I considered to be an efficient design for a smooth flow of traffic; nor one that would allow for some discretion. The building secretary also shared this office space, and although we got along well, I knew that some conversations needed a better sense of privacy.  It was an easy fix, using the large computer desks to create a wall between the areas, and flipping my side of the room. However, when Mr. Superintendent walked into the room, he kept saying, “Oh my, what have you done here?” and, “Oh, this is quite a change!” and, “You will need to be careful, because change doesn’t come easily around here.”

I knew I was in trouble from that first encounter, but it went downhill from there. To start with, there were some extremely difficult behavior concerns that had been hidden from the superintendent for many years. When I brought them to light, and worked with him to secure resources, somehow, these problems were seen to be my fault. He kept asking me that if these issues had been happening for years, why he didn’t know about them. I reminded him that I was new to the district and I couldn’t answer for those before me, however, they were long-ingrained problems that needed to be resolved.

As the messenger and whistle-blower, I took the heat while trying to make things better.  The real reason he didn’t know was his son was in this grade level, and the school personnel had made sure all through the years that the Superintendent remained unaware as to how out of control things really were in his son’s class.

A teacher on staff had made it her goal to make sure I got fired. She sent messages to board members about how poorly I was handling the behaviors that were causing disruption to student learning. One day, an incumbent board member came to observe how I was handling one particular student causing a lot of issues. I informed the soon-to-be board member that the student was not available since I had just emergency-removed him for the day due to his outbursts.  The newly-elected board member was quite shocked. His information was that I was afraid to discipline this fourth grader.

The reality was, I had engaged in a very positive relationship with this young lad’s family. He was a black student attending school in an almost entirely white environment. He was being raised by grandparents with a strong faith, with whom I had built a very positive relationship.  I had good communication almost daily with this family, and they respected the way that I was handling the behaviors of their misguided grandson. They wanted him to make better choices, and worked very well with me to build strategies to help him.

One day, this boy told another student to keep his m***f** hands off of his basketball. When he was sent to the office for using profanity, he and I discussed how that language was not going to ever be acceptable at school.  His response was that the other kid should have kept his m***f*** hands off of his ball. It was his private property.  I asked him, if it was private property and not to be shared with others, then why did he bring it to a public school?  He smiled and said, “good point.” He promised he would try harder to curb his language, and I thought the situation was over.

The next day, I was called to the superintendent’s office. I was interrogated about the profanity situation, and asked for how many days I suspended the student. A suspension is the highest level of punishment available to a building principal. I had no idea why I would suspend a student for using bad language with a peer. What if he had used that language toward an adult? What if he had been physically aggressive? Why would I pull out the biggest gun available for words alone? As these thoughts were scrambling through my brain, the superintendent told me that he was rethinking his decision to hire me, as it was quite obvious to him that I did not share the same values as their district. Obviously I didn’t. It was quite clear to me that this street-wise black kid was not welcome in their mostly white school.

The students with special needs were also not treated appropriately. This district had the children with IEPs on the high school schedule to accommodate some bussing concerns. This meant that the unit with special education students ate separately and at a different time; had a different recess; lined up in their own line, separate from their classmates; and often missed end-of-the-day activities and assemblies as they left an hour earlier than the rest of the school. Even to those unfamiliar with special education law, it was quite obvious the school was out of compliance. When I asked about the bussing situation, I was told there was nothing that could be done. I suggested reconvening and looking at the geographical concerns once again, but I was told to leave it alone.

A few weeks later, a new family with two school-age students arrived. One was on an IEP and the other, in the next grade above, was in a regular setting. The mother was told that her younger child would board the bus an hour before her other child and would come home an hour sooner. This mom was distressed that her two children were attending the same school and had different schedules. I shared my concern as well, and I told this parent that I had tried to address this situation (a blatant disregard for inclusive practices) but that my hands were tied. I suggested that she speak with the director of special education about her concerns.

The next day, once again I was called to central office. This time I was interrogated by three administrators. I was told I was not a team player. I was told that my loyalties were in question, and that it was obvious I was not a good fit for the district. I was told I was on probation and that my salary was frozen at the entry level for the second year of my contract.

Knowing that I was not in the right place to use my leadership skills, I applied to multiple other districts to no avail. I was the second place candidate for three positions, but nothing panned out. I was going back to a place where I was not valued, and not looking forward to it.

When I arrived back at the helm the following August, I was informed that some teachers had been moved. A teacher from another school in the district had come to fill an open position. After the second week of school, this teacher, John, stopped in my office after school and asked if I had some time to speak with him. He shut the door, and for the next few hours told me that he had been involuntarily transferred to my school to “clean up the mess” that I had supposedly made. He had been working on his administrative certification, and the superintendent thought that by bringing John to my school, he could gather information to prove how unfit I was for the principalship in this district. John then proceeded to tell me that he valued me as a leader, and saw nothing at all to report to the superintendent, except that he thought I was doing an excellent job. He wondered why he had been transferred, and asked me if I could shed some light.

I really couldn’t, except I knew that my relationship with one of the teachers had drastically changed. At first, she tried to be my best friend, and then she abruptly became cold and distant.  She was the one that was in contact with the board member about my supposed inability to handle student discipline, and often seemed to try to rally the rest of the staff to be in opposition to whatever direction I proposed. John told me that this teacher had a long history of stirring up trouble. He wasn’t sure why. She had been caught three separate times shoplifting in town. Because it was a small community and she came from an established family, the shop owners were willing to settle out of court so that she would not lose her teaching certification. John figured that her goal was to get the limelight off of herself, and she had already done a pretty good job of it.

As John and I discussed the timing of the change, I suddenly realized when it happened. It was the day after I had shared with her during a meal break during parent teacher conferences that I had been raised in a Jewish home and then became a Christian in college. It started to make sense that things began changing rapidly after that casual conversation.  I later found out that this community had very strong ties to an anti-Semitic group, but of course I couldn’t prove anything. I just had John’s affirmation that I was not the problem, and the timing was undeniable.

In February, I informed the superintendent that I was pregnant. Two days later I was given my notice that my contract would not be renewed once the school year had finished. I found this timing to be uncanny as well, but had nothing substantial to prove my suspicions of discrimination.

John was a great support and became a good friend and confidant. I somehow made it through the school year, and continued to provide the best leadership that I knew. At the end of the school year, I encouraged the staff to try some multi-age cross-content learning by allowing students to choose a country for in-depth study.

The students moved to the study of their choice for an entire week of cultural immersion. We held a special event for families to participate as their students demonstrated their learning. Special food was prepared representing each locale. Costumes were made, art created, items displayed, and students shared the results of all that they had learned. It was truly a spectacular event. However, it didn’t happen without a battle. That teacher did everything in her power to not allow this to take place. She used every trick in the book, but this time the rest of the staff did not allow the squeaky wheel to get her way. Everyone else was on board, and they told her to give it a try. It was interesting, but at the end of the unit of study, this teacher had changed her tune about project-based learning.  I couldn’t help smiling when I overheard her explaining to the school board members about the value of multiage and cross-content learning.

My teacher-friend, John had chosen to lead the learning on the country of Israel. The students made flags and Stars of David to display in the windows facing the road. When I had gotten near the end of the year, I decided that it was time to exit gracefully. I had enough sick leave to go a few weeks early, and the High School assistant principal had already been hired to fill my position. He came the day before I left so that he and I could tie up loose ends. As I walked out the front door, I noticed that John’s students had made a banner that said they would miss me, but on either side, there were still the Stars of David and the Israeli flag. A fitting send-off for me, no doubt.

When I was hired in my last position (which I held for seventeen years until I retired), the superintendent in this district asked me if he were to speak with my former superintendent what would he say? I took a deep breath and said that I didn’t think it was a good fit for me there. My new boss thanked me for being honest and said that he was looking for someone with integrity. He had already been in contact with my former boss, and knew things had not gone well there. He said that he knew that not every job was a good fit, and that everyone deserved another chance to prove themselves. I will always be grateful for that opportunity to try my wings again as a building principal. I might have been let go from my first experience, but what I learned was that integrity matters. No matter what!

            

Short-Sighted and a Three Dog Light

     While stopped at a red light, the truck in front of us had a sweet little dog in the back seat. The doggie had his head out the window and seemed to be enjoying the view. Then all of a sudden, he wiggled himself completely out the window, and was hanging by his leash attached to the collar around his neck. Slipping his collar, he ran around to the back of the truck. Thankfully, the light was still red.

            My mouth was wide open and so was the driver’s, who frantically jumped out of the driver’s seat, picked up the dog, and placed him back in the truck (with window now closed). The light still hadn’t turned green yet.

            My husband laughed at how long the light was, saying there was time to chase after three dogs before the light changed. He said he would be calling it the “Three Dog Light” from now on.”

            We followed the truck a few blocks, and then watched them turn into a local groomer’s parking lot. I had to laugh at that poor little doggie who risked jumping from a rather tall truck, almost strangling himself with his own leash and collar, and then ran into traffic—all to avoid a visit to the groomer’s.

            This reminded me of how short-sighted we must seem to God. We balk, and go in any direction instead of the one we need to, just to not have to endure what we think might be distasteful or scary. Yet, we often will put ourselves in even greater risk—just like this poor little doggie—to avoid something that really is pretty simple. God tells us to just take one step and then He gives directions for the next. When our thinking turns to worry and fear, it becomes easier to leap out the window than to stay the course.

            I wonder how many times I have run into greater obstacles just to avoid stepping out into the unknown? I have been just like this little pup more times than I can count. Enduring a bath at the groomers may seem like a mountain at the time, but in the grand scheme of things, it probably isn’t.

            Next time I start to stall when I am asked to leave my comfort zone, I will forever have this mind picture of a tiny dog leaping out of a truck window, hanging by his collar, and running into traffic just to avoid a bath. 

           Thankfully, the Three Dog Light held a happy ending today!

In Training

This past weekend, I was in downtown Indianapolis by myself attending a Women of Joy conference with over 6,000 other women, none of which I knew. I had to push through several difficult things with my thoughts that were NOT currently being “brought into captivity unto the obedience of Christ” (2 Corinthians 10:5).

First, the weather report was not good, and major thunderstorms were predicted. My husband prayed with me before I left on my two-and-a-half hour drive for peace through the storms. I prayed for no storms until I got there.  Thankfully, and so very gratefully, God heard my earnest prayers, and I had barely a sprinkling the entire trip.

Then there is the driving in the city part. I have a lot of angst about city driving, especially when I do not have a clue where I am going.  I managed to keep nailing my anxious thoughts to the cross right up until I made it to the valet parking area. Yes, the extra $6.00 plus tip were worth it to not have to get back into my car to find the self-parking garage. The only thing I could think of at the time was, “We aren’t in Kansas anymore, Toto!”

I wasn’t worried about not knowing anyone, although it was pretty weird having dinner on my own. I knew I was there to learn, to be listening, and hearing God. And frankly, I did a poor job of it much of the time. That actually surprised me, because I knew I was sent for training purposes. I really thought I was ready to receive the training. I wasn’t.

At dinner, my waiter’s name was Jacob. He  was a very endearing young man. The first thing out of his mouth when he realized I was dining alone was, “I would love to be able to do what you’re doing. Bless your heart!”  I knew that I wanted to bless HIS heart, so I told him that I have a new practice that I will be asking my wait staff how I might pray for them. I also, sheepishly admitted, he was my first.

He was quite astounded, and I told him to think about it while he brought my drink. He kept checking back with me, telling me he was “still thinking.”  I thought I’d heard a word for him. It was “trust your gut.” So I told him. He didn’t know what it meant, but wondered if it was something that was about to happen. I hadn’t considered that possibility, because I was expecting him to instantly resonate with this “word from the Lord.”

Feeling unsettled, I thought I heard that I was to leave him a $50.00 tip. I asked again, because right now my finances aren’t where I have been expecting them to be. I have sown into various moving ministries, and haven’t yet received my promised abundance. Knowing the meager amount in my checkbook and the bills yet to be paid, I asked a third time.  Really, $50.00?  I heard, “want to make it $100.00?”  I smiled, and obediently wrote out the tip for $50.00, and wrote, “trust your gut” beside it. I have no idea if this was God or not, but, heck, I’m in training, so I was encouraged. That is until…

I hadn’t been in a large city’s downtown for many years. I had forgotten what homelessness looks like. The pit of my stomach still aches for these people on the streets. I wanted to hear their stories. I wanted to know why they were there, but I walked past them without making eye–contact, thinking, “If I help one, don’t I have to help them all? How do I do that?”  It was easier to not see them. So, I walked by, pretending I didn’t see them. But I did. They were not invisible to me, yet, all the others around me walked right on by as well. Their conversations didn’t stop, they seemed oblivious to the pain and suffering. I was miserably trying to hear what to do, all the while thinking, “how can I fix any of this?”

The conference was amazing. If you have never been in a large group setting where everyone is worshipping together, you really need to do so. There are no words to explain what being in the Presence is like. In our Sunday School materials this week we read the analogy between using words to describe the Presence like taking a Polaroid snapshot of the Grand Canyon at night, and trying to portray the immense grandeur with the photo. Just can’t do it justice!

The evening’s events ended with Natalie Grant pouring her heart and voice into all 6,000 of us. I was so blessed. Then walking back to the hotel, I spotted him. The homeless one I was supposed to talk to. Our eyes made contact. His sign read, “Help me, please. God bless you.” I heard God’s voice. But I didn’t want to hear it. I still had many blocks to walk in the city at night back to my hotel. I was alone, although I wasn’t really. It couldn’t have been about my safety. There were many others leaving the arena and heading back to the same hotel. There were also other homeless ones all around him. Yet, I had honest reasons to not stop. I convinced myself that I “shouldn’t.”  I didn’t do the one thing God asked me to do.

I enjoyed the rest of the conference. It was inspiring, uplifting, and affirming. Yet in the pit of my stomach, I was totally undone. I came to Indianapolis to hear God’s voice and to do what He asked. I failed the test. I didn’t obey. I will never forget the look in that homeless man’s eyes.

I am praying that God sent another more obedient one to that man. In spite of my shortcomings, I pray that God’s will was done by someone with less resistance than me. I can rationalize all of my “reasons,” but the truth is, I fell short of the mark in my training. I balked because I was uncomfortable. No, I was scared out of my wits. I don’t want to admit that. I would rather see myself as fearless, but the truth remains. I chose fear over love, and I hate that part of me.

Today, I am resting in God’s mercy and forgiveness, but I am also forever changed. I am sure I will continue to wrestle with obedience when God is asking me to step out of my comfort zone. I am counting on remembering that homeless man’s eyes, boring into my soul—waiting to be helped.

Jesus tells us in Matthew 25: 35-40

For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat. I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me. Then the righteous will answer him, “Lord when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?” The King will reply, “I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brother of mine, you did for me.”

I am humbled. I am ashamed of my fears. I am truly sorry for not obeying. But then, I also am basking in the forgiveness of the Great Trainer. Tomorrow is another day! Let the lessons continue!

Coincidence?

Last week, I encountered two people whose life’s work and passion had a profound impact on me.

First, I found an author who writes about the things that matter most to me. Her writing style flows with ease, and she intersperses scriptures with enlightened meaning in ways that anyone can understand. I bought three of her books and found her to have a fascinating ability to reach into the depths of my heart.  I guess she is well-known, although I had never heard of her before. Thank you June Hunt for impacting my life so much already. I want to write like you so that my words penetrate the hearts of my readers. You have given me such a remarkable example to follow.

Then, just two days later, I encountered an amazing woman of God who has the mantle of a healing anointing upon her. She and her team, through the power of the Holy Spirit, healed over a hundred women at a conference I was attending. I, too, was blessed with a healing from chronic pain that I have lived with for over fifty years caused by various injuries along the way. Just like that! Gone, in the name of Jesus! Hallelujah! Let me tell you, going from chronic pain to no pain is truly a life-altering event!

Her name?  Joan Hunter.

Now, is it a coincidence that June Hunt and Joan Hunter both entered my life within a 48-hour period and created such an overwhelming impact that I can hardly contain it?

I don’t think so. I believe that it was no accident that these two ladies with almost the same name came to me at the same time because God is about to jumpstart the next phase of my journey.

I am ready! I am grateful, and I know beyond a shadow of a doubt it was a God-incidence that I was allowed to experience the passions of these two amazing ladies almost at the same time.

No, it was definitely not a fluke or an accident. Rather, this is the affirmation of Godly orchestration of purpose and growth for my life. For that, I am ever blessed!